


Arsenic Bugs

by paperowl



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Poisoning, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Vomiting, Whump, ransom note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperowl/pseuds/paperowl
Summary: Peter wakes up with a stomach bug, except how is he sick? It shouldn't be possible. That is, until Tony calls, ransom note (and threat on Peter's life) in hand, which might just explain why he's sick.Or, the one where Peter gets poisoned and Tony comes to take care of him
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696663
Comments: 17
Kudos: 196





	Arsenic Bugs

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so the prompt for the bingo square was Stomach Flu, and it started as that, but it morphed. What can I say? Once I added poisoning things just clicked, and to be honest, the stories function almost identically, one just has a better plot. I've gone over this fic like twenty times and nothing seems coherent to me anymore, but that's just from staring at the same sentences for hours. Thanks to @pheonix85 for reading it over and making sure everything made sense.
> 
> Hope you like it, because I refuse to edit any longer.

Peter retched into the toilet for what might have been the fifth time that night, but he didn’t know, he’d stopped counting an hour ago. His head was pounding, every movement sent a searing pain through his head and any sliver of light blinded him, only adding to the pain. As a result, the bathroom light was off, a small night light in the hallway providing a dim glow, letting Peter see the outline of objects but nothing more.

When Peter was awoken at midnight by severe nausea that had him running to the bathroom he was confused. He’d thought he couldn’t get sick, everyone said so, Bruce and Tony included. After extensive testing they said his immune system was as strong as, if not stronger than, Steve’s. Peter hadn’t felt sick earlier in the day, eating dinner with May before she went on her night shift without any indication that something might be wrong. He’d been a bit tired and gone to bed early, but otherwise, it was unexpected. At this point, Peter was too distracted by his stomach trying to expel all of its contents to put much more thought into how he became sick.

It was now two a.m. and Peter was borderline delirious, his stomach was constantly aching and he felt as though he was always on the verge of throwing up again. He’d situated himself on the bath mat in front of the tub, using it for its proximity to the toilet and the edge of the tub to lean his back against. Peter gagged and he leaned over the toilet, tears in his eyes. He’d gotten rid of all the food in his stomach ages ago, now all that was left was stomach acid or worse, nothing. At least when something came up he felt a little better for a while.

Peter wiped his mouth with some toilet paper, tossing it into the trash can next to the toilet, before leaning back against the tub clutching his stomach. He was tired, he was uncomfortable, he was sick. He wished there was someone around, if only so he wouldn’t worry so much about dying, hyperbolic as it was. However, May was at work, and Peter wasn’t going to wake anyone up for a little stomach bug; he was Spider-man, he could handle it. It was a thread of a resolution that almost dissolved every time he leaned over the toilet, but he held onto it anyway, because it was something to keep him going until May came home.

Then his phone rang.

He’d brought his phone to the bathroom accidentally, while he was scrambling to get out of bed Peter had placed his hand on his nightstand for support and, without thinking, grabbed his phone on the way. Now Peter fumbled across the tiles for it, the ringing of the phone reverberating in his ears and making his head pound even more fiercely than before. He barely cracked his eyes open to check who was calling, the light from his phone seared his eyes, though not enough to obscure the name ‘Mr. Stark’ at the top of his screen.

Peter didn’t know why Tony was calling, he usually did so only to check in on Peter for Spider-Man related reasons. Whether that be a stab wound Peter had refused to tell him about, or the many, many times he’d broken curfew. Even in cases of emergency Tony didn’t call this late. They were friendly with one another, but it’s not like they were close or anything, so there should be no reason Tony was calling him. 

Peter answered the call anyway. “Hi,” he said, his voice quiet and raw. He clamped his mouth closed the moment he’d finished talking, keeping it open for even a moment was just inviting bad things to happen. He didn’t want to throw up again, especially not while on the phone with Tony Stark. If that happened he might just have to join witness protection.

“Well, you sound great,” Tony said in way of greeting, his words dripping with false bravado and piercing into Peter’s brain. Peter hissed at the noise, reflexively jerking the phone away from his ear.

“Yep.” Peter choked out, very much the opposite of great.

Tony quieted his voice and dropped a bit of the confidence he’d put on.“So quick question, you don’t happen to have been kidnapped recently?”

“Um. No? Why?” Peter wondered why Tony was asking, this was not par for the course at all, and they’d had some weird conversations in the past.

“I just got a ransom note threatening your life unless I give these people several million dollars and an Iron Man suit or two. However,” Tony’s tone lightened, and Peter could hear the relief in his voice. “since you seem to be fine, I can add this to the pile.” 

Peter cleared his throat, “Yeah, about that…” he didn’t want to worry Tony if it was just a little stomach bug, but he also wouldn’t want to risk this sickness being something more serious. He opened his mouth to continue speaking but instead his stomach seized, and he found himself over the toilet yet again, except this time he had Tony Stark on speaker.

When Peter was done he scrambled for the phone and started talking into it without pausing to see if Tony was saying something. “It’s nothing, Mr. Stark, I’m fine. It’s just a little stomach bug, there’s no way it’s related. There can’t be.”

Peter could hear Tony sigh, all traces of his confident facade gone. “Look, kid, I get ransom notes and death threats all the time, I’d love to believe you. But what seems more plausible to that smart brain of yours? Someone saw Tony Stark out with a kid a couple of times and decided to attack the kid for money, or surprise, there’s a specially mutated virus that somehow affects your superhuman body, which no virus has been able to do before.”

“Well, how do we-” Peter paused for the explosion of pain in his head to pass, gritting his teeth and twisting his fingers through his hair. “How do we know that no virus can affect me?”

“Bruce and I have run the simulations, it’s highly unlikely you’ll ever get sick again. And if you do, it’ll take more than a stomach bug to get through your immune system.” Tony had an edge to his voice that normally Peter would’ve been a little worried about, but there something in his tone had triggered an awful wave of pain, so Peter didn’t have time to worry

Peter dropped his phone on the floor next to him and turned, resting his head on the edge of the tub and laying his palms flat on the tiles, hoping that the cold would help. He bit his lip, tears falling freely down his face, his head was splitting open and it was a pain so overwhelming he could barely think about anything else.

“Hey Pete, Peter! You okay?” Tony sounded more than a little frantic, but even though the phone was on the floor, volume turned down low, it was still too much. Every word only added to the pain in Peter’s head, and it took every ounce of energy to get something out.

“Sto- stop talking, please.” Peter pleaded in a barely audible whisper.

“What was that? Peter? What’s happening?” Tony was even louder this time, and Peter, reluctant to move or talk, did it anyway. He moved as slow as humanly possible, picking up his phone and bringing it close to his face.

“Stop talking.” He said in a much firmer and louder voice.

“What?” Tony sounded worried, understandably, but why did he have to yell?

“Please, it hurts.” Peter whimpered, wishing he would faint or die, or something, absolutely anything to get him away from the ever-increasing pounding in his head. Tony didn’t say anything in response, so Peter figured he’d listened; though as long as it was quiet Peter couldn’t care less what was happening. He put the phone on the edge of the tub and twisted so his left arm was resting underneath his head and his legs were curled into his chest, leaning his side against the tub. At least he wasn’t nauseous anymore.

Time blurred, and Peter couldn’t tell minutes and seconds apart anymore, all he knew was that some time later the bathroom light turned on. Peter groaned and covered his eyes, the light flicked off after a moment and Peter heard some scuffling.

“Hey, how are you?” Tony’s voice was hushed and low, close to Peter too, he was probably sitting.

Peter didn’t respond, he couldn’t. His head hurt too much and his mouth didn’t want to form words.

“Okay, I’m having FRIDAY scan your vitals, but I need some answers, I think you’ve been poisoned. What if you-” Tony paused, and Peter felt Tony’s hand searching through the dark. “One tap is yes two is no, how about that?” Tony had found Peter’s hand and guided it to what felt like jeans, maybe Tony’s knee.

This hushed version of Tony was much better, he could deal with it, Peter tapped once, affirming he’d understood what Tony had said.

“Is there any problem with your breathing?”

Peter tapped twice, really glad that wasn’t on top of what was already happening.

“Good.” Tony muttered, more to himself than Peter, “Do you have a headache?”

One tap, obviously.

“Any delirium or confusion?”

Peter hesitated, unsure how to respond, landing on three taps after a moment.

“Hmm, okay, combined with vitals it looks like you’re probably through the thick of it. You’re not going to die, so we can figure everything out later. Right now I think you need some rest.” Tony’s voice was still tight and worried, but Peter tapped once, agreeing. 

Sleep, even laying down, would be nice, if only he could make it to his bed. Standing up didn’t sound like something he even wanted to attempt, but his room was just down the hall, so maybe he could make it. Peter’s hand dropped off of Tony’s knee, and he could hear Tony scuffling around, standing up and trying to navigate without light. 

“Come on Peter,” Tony was probably beckoning, unseen in the dark.

Peter pushed himself up to his feet, swaying, and then came the pain. A wave of stabbing pain hit him hard, making it nearly impossible to stay standing. It was overwhelming and Peter had never felt anything like it. Despite this, he was already up, so he might as well continue. Peter took a step, the movement sending another jolt of pain to his head. He made it to the doorway of the bathroom only by clutching the sink and counter to support himself.

The night light in the hallway wasn’t very bright, but it was enough to overload his senses, and only one step into the hallway Peter’s legs gave out and he collapsed.

“Shit,” Tony was close enough to catch him before he fell to the floor.

“Sorry,” Peter slurred quietly, at least his mouth was working now.

“Kid, you don’t need to apologize. You were poisoned.” Tony said, readjusting his hold on Peter so that he had an arm around Peter’s waist to support him. Peter wrapped his arm over Tony’s shoulders, needing all the support he could get. Tony started walking and Peter made it two steps before stumbling and almost sliding out of Tony’s hold. 

Tony caught him again. “Woah there, your legs aren’t giving out are they?”

Peter managed to say, “No, it’s my head.”

“Oh, kid.” Tony muttered under his breath, saying a little louder, “Come on, just a few more steps, I’ve got you.” 

Stumbling every other step and almost pulling Tony down with him several times, the two finally made it to Peter’s bed. As much as Peter wanted to lay down and get rid of the pain in his head, he was reluctant to let go of Tony. Tony was real and warm and safe, and Peter had maybe just been poisoned, he needed something to stay constant. Peter slid into bed slowly, and Tony covered him with the sheets. He left the room, to Peter’s disappointment, but came back after a minute or two with a glass of water, which he placed on Peter’s nightstand. 

He rolled Peter’s desk chair over near the head of Peter’s bed and reached out, searching for Peter’s hand, Peter had done the same, but with his eyes closed he was failing blindly. Tony caught his hand before Peter accidentally hit him in the face, lowering Peter’s arm and rubbing the back of his hand.

“You want a drink?” Tony whispered.

Peter was torn, his mouth was drier than the Sahara and his throat was raw, but taking a drink meant he had to sit up and that meant making the pounding in his head worse. 

“I- don’t know.” Peter whispered, “I’m thirsty, but my head hurts every time I move.”

“I think you need one anyway, you’re probably pretty dehydrated,” Tony said, and Peter steeled himself, preparing to sit up, and letting go of Tony’s hand in favor of grasping further up on his arm. Before he made a move on his own though, Tony was slipping an arm underneath Peter to help him sit.

Once Peter was up he clutched Tony’s arm for support with one hand and grabbed the glass Tony haded to him in the other. Taking small sips in hopes that he wouldn’t bring back any nausea, he relished the cool feeling of water sliding down his throat. It took him much longer than it should have to drink half of the glass, but he was drinking and keeping it down. When he was done Peter tried to give back the glass, but communication in the dark was difficult, so hands collided and they almost spilled water all over Peter’s bed.

Peter settled in trying to sleep then, though the ever-present pain in his head was making it very difficult. He asked Tony if he had any super meds for the headache and Tony just sighed and shook his head. “Sorry kid, we can’t risk a bad reaction with whatever you were poisoned with. You’re gonna have to tough it out, okay?” 

Tony stayed nearby, keeping himself busy with his AI glasses, which emitted very little light or noise, and still holding Peter’s hand. Peter drifted off eventually, fully expecting to wake up better, or at the very least without a headache so bad he could barely think. Of course, Parker luck would never let that happen, so the next time Peter awoke it was to throw up, again. 

Tony was there to grab a trash can and shove it underneath Peter’s mouth at the last millisecond so he didn’t get vomit everywhere. Peter hadn’t expected Tony to still be hanging around, but based on his rumpled hair and the circles under his eyes, he’d been up and around while Peter was asleep. Peter realized then that it was bright enough for him to see, the sky was lightening and night was almost over and…

“I don’t have a headache!” Peter said it with more enthusiasm than he expected, but he never wanted a headache like that again. 

Tony chuckled, “Well that’s fortunate, because in a few hours you’re coming with me to the compound. We need to figure out what you were poisoned with, how it was administered, and who did it. And a couple of those questions require medical answers.”

“Okay,” Peter said, wiping his mouth and taking a few sips from the glass Tony handed him. “Um, thanks, for dealing with all this, you didn’t have to.”

“I did, given the state you were in when I got here, but you’re welcome. Now get some more sleep, your spider body needs it.”

Peter sighed, but readjusted himself, already feeling tired. His grasp on time was still iffy, so Peter didn’t even realize Tony was gone until he came back, clean trash can in hand. It was a little weird now that he could see Tony looking at him, it made it mildly more difficult to try and sleep, so Peter decided to talk a bit to pass the time before he inevitably passed out from exhaustion.

“What are we going to tell May? Does she already know?” Peter asked, and realized he’d completely forgotten about her in the chaos of the night.

“I haven’t said a word, it’s up to you. By the way, where is she? Out partying or something?” Tony said the last bit with a teasing tone in his voice, as usual whenever he brought up May.

“Ha ha, she’s at work right now. It’s one of like three night shifts she has to do a month.” Peter said, snuggling into the pillow.

“I think Pepper has quite a few wild stories up her sleeve of night shifts I made her work, I should get her to tell you some time.” Tony chuckled and kept talking, but Peter lost the thread as he drifted off. Tony’s voice, quiet and calm, reminded him of the time he got food poisoning from a bad hot dog. Ben had stayed up with him all night as he threw his guts up and read stories to him as he fell asleep.

* * *

Peter woke up later that morning to the sound of Tony and May talking in hushed tones. This time he didn’t throw up and he didn’t have a pounding head, it was a nice change from the previous few hours. 

“Hi,” Peter said, his voice was still a little scratchy, but it was there.

May whipped around from where she was standing talking to Tony, “You’re awake! Oh, Peter, Tony told me you have an awful stomach bug, why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want you to have to take another night shift, I know how much you hate them. And look, I’m fine now.” Peter said, it wasn’t a total lie, he hadn’t wanted to make May take another night shift, but he also wasn’t sure if he was totally fine yet.

May sat on the edge of Peter’s bed.“Tony and I already had breakfast, do you want some?”

Peter grimaced, “I think I’ll pass for now, can’t be too careful.”

“Yeah,” May said, pushing some of Peter’s hair off of his face and planting a kiss on his forehead. “Tony and I agreed that you should go to the compound so he and Bruce can do some tests, see why you got sick, do you think you’re up for it?”

Peter yawned, “He already mentioned it, I can go.”

“Alright,” May said, “Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

“I won’t May,” Peter said, smiling at her and pushing himself to a sitting position.  
May planted another kiss on his head and left the room, going to bed after an eventful night shift, which she promised to tell Peter about when she’d gotten more rest.

Peter sighed and said, “So she doesn’t know,” after he was sure May had made it to bed.

“After the phone call I got when she discovered you were Spider-man I figured it would be best to censor this.” Tony said.

“Alright,” Peter said, pushing back the covers, “I think I’m okay to travel now. Just let me change and not look so gross.”

“Okay kid, meet me in the living room when you’re done,” Tony said, ruffling Peter’s hair on his way past.

“Hey!” Peter pouted and tried to flatten his hair, Tony chuckled.

Peter changed clothes, combed his hair, and brushed his teeth before heading out to meet Tony. Peter thought Tony was going to fly him out with the Iron Man suit, but there was a car waiting instead. Peter was mildly disappointed, but he figured it was safer for everyone this way. 

Not much was said during the ride to the compound, Peter dozed, still exhausted from his long night, and Tony seemed to furiously investigating something, likely trying to track down the poisoners. They arrived at the compound on time and headed to the med bay where Bruce was waiting with an extensive list of things to test and a seemingly endless stream of questions to bombard Peter with.

Peter was tired enough that he didn’t really care what was done to him, which was helpful when he needed multitudinous blood draws and IV pricks, all while being intensely questioned. By the end, he was hooked up to an IV of saline and eating a piece of toast while waiting for the results, still tired out of his mind. He was starting to think maybe he’d been more delirious than even he had originally realized.

Bruce walked into the room and said, “So Peter, you were definitely poisoned. We aren’t absolutely sure what with because your body metabolized it rapidly, but based upon the results here we can say it was probably arsenic.”

“How fun,” Peter muttered under his breath, still trying to take in the fact that he’d been poisoned.

Bruce continued, “It had to have been a large dose, likely fatal to the average person, to affect you like that. Amazingly you don’t have any internal damage, you can thank your enhanced healing for that. You should be good to go once you’ve eaten something and aren’t dehydrated anymore.” He paused when he was done to let Peter process the information.

“So they didn’t know I was Spider-man?” Peter said, hoping he’d at least managed to keep something secret.

“As far as we can tell, no. Based on the ransom note and approximate dose of poison, it was supposed to kill you. And it would have if you weren’t enhanced.” Tony said, a slight waver present in his voice. “We think they just saw you out with me or found internship information and decided you were the easiest way to get to me.”

“Oh,” Peter said in a small voice. He never thought he was well known enough to inspire any attempt on his life outside of the suit.

“Now, our data suggests you ingested the poison, do you have any idea where you could have been exposed to it?” Bruce said.

“Um,” Peter wracked his brain, “I had take-out with May in the evening,”

“That’s probably it, the timing checks out, at least.” Bruce said.

“Where did you get food from?” Tony asked, jumping into the conversation.

“It’s a local pizza place we have a lot. But I don’t know how I ate all the poison and May wasn’t affected at all.” Peter said, a chill running down his spine when he thought about the fact that they may have accidentally poisoned May instead of him.

“We don’t know, but we’ll work on figuring it out. In the meantime, I think you and May should refrain from getting any outside food, even school lunches.” Bruce said.

Peter chuckled, “Yeah, probably. I’m not exactly excited for a repeat.”

“Me neither, kid, me neither.” Tony said, shaking his head.

“I have another spider person to attend to, Natasha always manages to injure something, so I’m trusting you to sit and wait until the saline bag is empty before trying to make a run for it. Alright?” Bruce gave a stern look that seemed to be more directed at Tony than Peter.

“Brucey! How could you? I’m plenty responsible, I would never jeopardize his treatment!” Tony said, immediately before turning to Peter and whispering, “Don’t worry, I know a secret back way out, we can get you finished with that IV somewhere more comfortable.”

Bruce shook his head with a smile, “Don’t make me use doctor’s orders on you.”

“We wouldn’t dare.” Tony said, sounding positively scandalized.

The door clicked shut and silence filled the room for a moment before Peter said, “Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry that I kept you up all night and stuff, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I should’ve figured out people were after me-” 

Tony interrupted him, the touch of exasperation in his tone was offset by a small smile on his face, “Peter, we’ve been over this, you don’t need to apologize for getting poisoned.” 

“It’s just that I-” Tony cut him off by enveloping him in a hug, squeezing him tightly, “Just don’t die on me, okay kid?” Tony said before pulling away and giving Peter a smile with, were those tears in his eyes? 

Peter hugged Tony back, “Don’t worry, I solemnly swear not to die on you.” Tony chuckled, mussing up Peter’s hair again. And you know what, Peter could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a whole bingo card left of whump prompts, so you best bet that I'm going to be writing quite a few more fics like this in the future, they're just so much fun!
> 
> My tumblr is [papered-owl](https://papered-owl.tumblr.com/). Come for writing updates, stay for the terrible art


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